Chapter 971: Nothing Is Impossible

Nothing is impossible

Cheng Shi is alive.

Or rather, the Authority of “Vitality” has pride—even if its effect is pierced, it could never be defeated by a mortal.

Of course, as always, before the battle began, Cheng Shi had no idea what secret technique Xiao Qi had hidden away, so he dared not gamble solely on “Vitality”; as cautious as he was, he had long ago prepared a backup plan for eternal life during his escape.

Don’t forget, he’s a clown now—a Priest of [Deception] who lies as if yesterday never ended!

And coincidentally, in the last trial, a teammate with half-closed eyes had been fooled by him, so...

“Lies as if yesterday, sneer at today.

Yesterday I deceived the followers of [Death], so today...

I am a follower of [Death].”

Temporary top sales rep now permanently hired!

When the Cosmic Necropolis became my home, what—you actually want to kick me out!?

I won’t! Because the rebellious clown never bows out easily.

The Gravekeeper gave Cheng Shi the greatest confidence, allowing him to launch his plan immediately after Xiao Qi fired that arrow—and the name of this plan is...

Kill the heart!

Kill the heart by killing the heart!

So that arrow wasn’t something Cheng Shi couldn’t dodge—no, forget the lie, he really couldn’t dodge it...

But it has nothing to do with dodging, because when that arrow left Xiao Qi’s hand, Cheng Shi never intended to dodge—he walked straight into it!

From throwing away the container, to feigning traps, to commanding the emissaries, to trapping the wise with lies—all of it was preparation, all aimed at this precise moment: catching that arrow.

But Cheng Shi never knew what Xiao Qi’s killing move was; he only knew that when Xiao Qi unleashed it, he must not dodge—he must charge straight into it!

So Cheng Shi didn’t dodge; instead, he broke convention, thrust out his chest, and let the arrow—infused with past betrayal, present obsession, and future delusion—pierce straight through his heart.

In that moment, the heart that had never pained him even at childhood betrayal now genuinely clenched for an instant.

Then, Cheng Shi lay flat.

The torrent of arrows was indeed powerful; after all, in a game watched by gods, some arrows were not ordinary—they carried various effects, and even one hit could kill outright, let alone hundreds or thousands.

But no matter how different, under the contempt of “Vitality,” all things were equal.

Actually, credit must go to Xiao Qi’s caution; if not for his half-hour-long low-frequency “whipping of the corpse,” Cheng Shi’s “Vitality” might not have recovered so quickly.

And the moment Cheng Shi opened his eyes again, the battle shifted entirely—became even more brutal.

Don’t misunderstand: here, “brutal” doesn’t mean Cheng Shi launched a fiercer counterattack, but that he endured even more inhumane “abuse.”

Du Qiyu, seeing that Xiao Shi could still survive this, did not retreat or abandon the assassination; instead, he seized every second to keep outputting against Cheng Shi’s immobile body.

He knew that if he missed this moment, facing this immortal cockroach of an old friend, he would never get another chance to hunt him.

So the torrent of arrows fell again, pinning Cheng Shi—who had just barely lifted his neck—back to the ground.

Countless arrows severed the ones already embedded in Cheng Shi’s body, then drove anew into his flesh; yet no matter how many arrows piled up, his eyes remained open, his smile never faded.

“No, this is impossible!”

He’s just a Weaver of Fates who merged with a clown—how can he live like an undying Gravekeeper!?

This is impossible!

Only when Du Qiyu, hidden in the dense forest, was forced to halt his assault due to overexerted mental energy did Cheng Shi, for the umpteenth time, pull the arrow from his lips, stretch his inhuman, grotesque grin, and cluck his tongue:

“Tsk, your archery is decent, but still falls short of Qin Xin.

Your bravery is passable, yet compared to Hu Wei, you lack a certain wildness.

As for your deception—hah, that’s the interesting part. Those clumsy lies could only fool naive fools. So why did He bring you into the ranks of [Void]?

Can you give me an answer, Beast Tamer?

Oh right, you have a name—what was it again?

Du... Qi Yu?

You truly deceived a raw gem. Come to think of it, when I found that promising talent, I should thank you—your actions inspired Cheng Shi to walk the path of [Deception]. In that sense, you’ve actually done some good.

Hmm, looking at it this way, Him granting you a future isn’t unreasonable.”

Cheng Shi spoke to himself, pulling out armfuls of arrows as he spoke, blood gushing endlessly, soaking the ground beneath him into deep crimson—yet his movements were unaffected, even growing more agile.

Du Qiyu watched this, feeling as if Cheng Shi carried within him a blood reservoir of infinite volume; he had never heard of any artifact or talent that could withstand such horrific wounds and recover so swiftly.

But that wasn’t the main point—the main point was what the man’s words meant.

From his tone, this man didn’t seem like Xiao Shi at all!

Though his mental energy was nearly drained, under the influence of the [Corruption] container, Du Qiyu’s mind was still sharp—he immediately realized Cheng Shi was faking it. But the moment he saw the object Cheng Shi suddenly pulled from his hand, that thought vanished from his mind.

Cheng Shi knew best how to seize the moment—especially the moment to lie.

Deception is never accomplished by words alone. True, in certain contexts, words can be hypnotic, but most of the time, speech is hollow. What truly deceives a person is never the liar’s mouth, but the deceived’s eyes.

You must make the other see what they wish to believe, before you can calmly tell them: the truth you see is a lie you will never comprehend.

What Cheng Shi pulled out was not anything else—it was a container.

The [Prosperity] container!

The instant the grotesque, gnarled wooden hourglass appeared in Cheng Shi’s hand, the terrifying aura of [Prosperity] made Du Qiyu freeze—suddenly recalling his own artifact that absorbed emotion and desire.

He wasn’t a fool; at this moment, he seemed to have grasped something.

But Cheng Shi did not let Xiao Qi wander in thought—this was the critical moment to guide his mind, and he must define this battle between two players with the most shocking means possible, telling the ignorant Beast Tamer:

The one playing along with you was never a player—but a [Him], a supreme lesser deity!

So at this crucial moment, Cheng Shi pulled out another container—the [Time] container!

And as the two containers floated and spun in his left and right hands, he shook his head in utter disappointment:

“I spent countless hours selecting among containers, choosing the [Corruption] container most suited to you, hoping to see your maximum potential and depth of faith. But now I see...

You’re far too weak.

Beast Tamer, you’ve lost your chance. Return the container. I must test the next target.”

By now, Du Qiyu’s mind had completely stalled. Though he felt no fear, confusion had filled his exhausted brain.

Looking at the two dazzling, blinding containers in Cheng Shi’s hands, then at his own, Du Qiyu didn’t even ask who he was—he blurted out instead:

“What... is a container?”

And when he heard the man not ask him, but ask about the container, Cheng Shi knew—the illusion had blinded him. This game...

Was won!